DAO: Sten and Warden Mahariel Drabbles
by N7PhoenixFox
Summary: A collection of pieces which involve a Dalish warden and Sten. The development of their respect and relationship. In a world where a romance was possible. A lot of the dialogue is non-canon but is based around that in game. Mature for planned later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

{Sten and Warden Drabbles}

I absolutely adore Sten! (Even though talking to him sometimes gives me a headache) And I believe my Warden does also. Hence I decided to write a world where romancing the stubborn Qunari existed.

These will be simple small pieces of writing on the two of them from origins, then an AU at the end where they meet years later.

That's what I have planned anyway. Fingers crossed.

It'll be rated mature for those later chapters.

{ Part 1 }

"Are you alright, Sten?"

The tiny elf woman looked up at him again. She was light on her feet, and he had almost been so deep in thought that he'd not noticed her until she'd been virtually beneath him.

He allowed her to get close, of course.

He tilted his chin down to meet her gaze. "You are concerned? No need."

Her brows knotted together. He was beginning to learn that she was a very stubborn woman, when the little thing wanted to be.

"You were in that cage for how long? We have healing potions, if you need some."

He recalled how she'd used the key to his cage he'd believed he would rot in. Far away from home, the sands of Seheron and with his soul lost. She'd offered him redemption, had not hesitated to approach him where he might reach through the bars and snap her neck before her companions could so much as blink.

He'd stumbled when he'd first stepped from his prison. The lack of sustenance had taken a strain on even his body towards the end. The elf had not said a word, instead had offered a hand to his elbow, as if she had any chance of keeping him upright.

His eyes had snapped to her, and he had all but yanked his arm away from her touch by the time he had control over himself again. He was angry at his own failures, not her.

Her eyes had widened slightly, and he had seen the pulse at her neck beat wildly, but she had not fled him or ordered the others to attack.

Now she stood before him, asking endless questions and enquiring after his health. She was odd. Even for an elf. And he was not entirely sure she was a woman - after all they did not fight. Yet sure enough there was a dagger, sword and bow attached to her person at one time or another.

Her skill with the weapons was more than he expected from one of her kind.

"I am fine, Warden," he ground out. Any other Qunari would have taken him at his word from the start - he knew himself better than anyone else, how far his body could go.

The tiny elf woman took her leave after looking him over once more. He'd taken to standing some distance from the fire, in his cloth clothes and staring into the forest. Meditations; to keep his mind sharp.

She returned not long later, and a growl escaped his lips. When his gaze landed on her, she was carrying a bundle which was obviously too heavy for her small form.

"These are for you," she said, having ignored his noise of anger.

There was a steel great sword placed over folded armour, and a brown paper bag on top of that. The boots were grasped in her fingers which looked to be struggling under the weight.

"Take them," she offered.

He eyed her a moment, watching her test her strength to hold his borrowed things. Then he reasoned that he needed a weapon to redeem himself, and so he reached over and took the bundle from her arms.

She let out a small sigh. Sten put the armour down, and lifted the sword. It felt wrong in his hand, and he spat out a gruntle curse in Qunlat.

The elf jumped a little. "Is it not right for you?" She asked, looking at his hand on the handle.

He could strike her down where she stood. Strike out in his own in an attempt to retrace his steps. The tiny elf woman stared up at him with little fear, even as the metal gleamed in the fire light, casting shadows over her pale face. He lowered the blade. He had made a promise to her. Foolish of him, maybe, but he did not go back on his word.

"It is sufficient for its use." She seemed even more confused by his out burst at that. Perhaps he'd tell her of his plight...one day.

She pointed to the bag. "There is food in there for you."

It was his turn to be puzzled by her. He placed the blade on the ground, and then retrieved the package. He opened it with clawed fingers and sniffed. It was some type of bread. Then his eyes widened when he recognised it - he'd seen some of the Elven viddathari eat it.

"Travel bread," she told him, noting his expression. "You look like you've seen it before. I had some left from when I left my clan. It will fill you up, and help heal your stomach after not eating for a long period of time."

He didn't know what to make of the gesture, at first. He sniffed the bread again.

The elf's hand came into view as she reached inside and took one of the rolls. He watched her blunt teeth as she took a bite and swallowed before replacing the roll inside the package, a small bite now missing.

"I wouldn't poison you, Sten. Though I know of how you feel. I insisted the humans tasted everything before I even ate a morsel of it."

That was a piece of information about herself, in a way. She was as forth coming with the others, as he was himself. He'd discovered this when he had listened to the others converse with her. They spoke of themselves much, and she asked questions where appropriate - the others rarely asked anything of her, it seemed.

The odd chance that they did, however, the elf answered honestly or refused to answer at all.

He looked down at the contents of the bag again. "It is unnecessary, but welcome."

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. "I will leave you to it."

Sten watched her go. She sat at the fire, and tried not to flinch when the humans sat around her.

He bent down to retrieve the armour, before heading out into the tree line to inspect it. He did not fear nakedness, but did not trust the others while he was pre-occupied with dressing.

Even as he entered the darkened woodland. He kept an eye on the elf with his heightened sight. She was an oddity, and he would do well to keep an eye on her.


	2. Chapter 2

{ Part 2 }

She confused him, to say the least. Confounded him over many things, many times. She insisted that she was a woman, one who could and would fight.

"One of those things must not be true," he told her, annoyance seeping into his voice. Why could she not see it as he did?

The elf crossed her arms over her chest. "Why is that?"

Sten felt a pull towards her. She had asked many questions of him, of his people and culture. The others mostly avoided him, or when they did ask him questions, failed to see the truth to his answers which ultimately meant it was useless and wasted his time.

But not the elf woman.

They spoke in ignorance. Calling out the Qun to be things it was not. They spoke of freedom and the treatment of mages when they had no clue to what they were speaking of.

The elf was different. She disagreed with him sometimes, yes, but mostly she tried to understand. It had put him on edge at first, wondering if the little thing was playing games.

But then...she had seemed generally interested in his answers. When he answered with 'yes' or 'no', she did not huff and remark on his lack of speech, she thought and then asked the RIGHT questions. Ones he would answer.

"Woman do not fight," he told her. "That is not their role."

Her face twisted in thought, the dark lines of her markings bunched up as they often did then she made that face. "I am a woman Sten," she told him, conviction in her voice.

Her dark blue eyes scanned his.

The expression in her eyes made his throat suddenly dry. He shallowed. "Then it proceeds to be that you can not fight."

"But I do, because I must," she told him. "Do Qunari woman not fight, when they have to?"

She...had a point. It was not often that Sten was stumped, and actually had to think about the lines he was taught in the Qun. They were taught for every situation, to the point where they knew their duty and place without having to think of it.

"You have an interesting point, Warden. I will think on it," he ended.

He had reluctantly said it, and expected her to beam up at him. A victory for having backed the Qunari into a verbal corner. Instead her brows furrowed more, and she seemed uncomfortable.

But then she nodded once, and took off in the direction of the two dwarves who insisted in following them to each new camp. There was a lake obscured by their van of goods which she had taken to bathing in, or disappearing to.

He turned his gaze away. His height allowing him more view of the lake than any of the others.

He swollowed once more.

While he would not watch himself, he would make sure no other approached her.


	3. Chapter 3

{ Part 3 }

They were heading up a vashedan mountain for no reason other than to find a dead woman's remains. It was futile.

His hard gaze slipped to the warden at the front of the four man group. Her feet sank into the snow as she pushed her legs onwards. It would have been commendable, had it not been for nothing.

He increased his strides, ignoring the cry of the ex-Templar as he pushed past the idiotic man, and came to stop in front of her.

She came up short. Raised her dark blue eyes to his face, a knot between her brow.

"What is it, Sten?"

"Do you intent to keep going North, until it turns into South?"

Her face twisted in confusion. He was about to snap at her but was halted by a look of understanding which passed along her elven features. Less sharp than he expected, more...soft, smooth.

"It is necessary, Sten."

"No, it is not," he returned, a bark of his voice. "The Archdemon is in the other direction. Stop stalling. Or are you a coward?"

Her head whipped back slightly, as if he'd struck her. Good. He wanted to get under her skin as much as she got under his. If calling her out meant she would finally face their true mission, then so be it.

"We can not fight it as we are now," her voice was as cold as the chilled air surrounding them. The others had stopped to listen to their talk. He paid them no mind. His eyes only on her as her anger tinted her cheeks and ears a darker red than the wind.

"If we fight the Archdemon while the country is still arguing between itself then we will be slaughtered."

"That is an excuse." He lashed back, leant over her in his full armour and towering height. She didn't flinch back, instead rose on her toes to meet him.

"No, it isn't. It's logic. We need the Arl, who needs these ashes to heal. We deal with the political unrest, then march on the Archdemon with an army behind our backs."

He growled, low in his throat. Though the woman carried a sword of ice, named Oathkeeper, there was fire in her eyes which promised he'd get burnt if he pushed her.

"I will duel you for command," he found himself saying. He would not cause her harm unless she was willing to do it back.

"No," she said, and he snapped back a little at the bite behind her words. "You will trust me, Sten. I have not lead you astray so far, have I?"

There was a rumble in his throat, and his eyes narrowed at her. He pinned her with his gaze, not wanting her to think she could command him to do something so foolish without a hint of disagreement.

"Carry on then, Warden. For now."

Had he really just backed down?

He told himself it was for redemption. There would be no achieving it without her.

The elven warden glared at him for a moment longer. "Good," he uttered, the word as sharp as ice. She moved a head of him, rounding his arm and trudged on through the elementals as they worsened.

He watched her back the whole time. His mind as wild as the weather. He grumbled and muttered, causing comments from the ex-Templar and 'tutting' noises from the old spell caster.

When it was discovered that they'd walked into a cult village. Sten moved to stand in front of her as groups of men ran at them with rusty blades. Through the fight, she moved from his shadow and killed just as many as he. Even once impaling a man who intended to launch a spear into his neck.

When there were no more, and they made their way to the top of the village, he grunted in acknowledgement of her and her actions. Sten thought he saw a smile on her lips, but it was vanished as they stepped inside the last building.

...

Vashedan ~ Foreign Trash (basically crappy - though I imagine it to be like 'fucking mountain') ha.


	4. Chapter 4

{ Part 4 }

Asala - his soul. The blade crafted for him when he came of age and took upon his role.

When he had spoken of it to the Warden, it had been because of her questions as to why he could not go back to Seheron. She had been bewildered, much like other things he'd told her, but it was not because of the reasons he believed.

At first, when he'd spoken of his sword, his soul, he had thought she could not understand his connection to it. Why he would be killed on sight if he were to return without it.

He had been incorrect, and not for the first time when it came to the small elven warrior.

She had not understood why he spoke as if it were final, as if he could not find it again. He'd told her of how it had fallen from his hands during the ambush. It was lost, and there was nothing he could do.

She shook her head. "We will search the riverside," she told him. So much certainty in her expression that he found himself believing along with her, if but for a moment. "I'll help you find it."

As she sat beside the fire that night, tending to the string on her bow, he watched her. It wasn't the first time he'd done that, either.

He berated himself for it. She was not of the Qun, and he had no business looking at her for personal pleasure.

It was wrong, in his world, and yet he could not stop from admiring her curved ears, much like his own but far more delicate. The pale column of her neck, decorated in fine black ink in patterns which disappeared beneath her armour.

He forced himself to turn away, to take a walk in the line of trees which surrounded the camp site. It was an effort to keep his eyes from finding her at every turn.

It wasn't long after their discussion that Sten found himself stood on familiar soil. It was where he and his men had been ambushed by the Darkspawn. She said nothing, and neither did he from his place behind her.

He almost wanted to see if she would remember.

The warden paused when she saw a man beside a pile of bones. Sten pretended his stomach did not clench at the remains of his brothers, then seething anger boiled inside at the bas who searched around in them.

The warden strode up to the man with purpose. Her presence made him jump to his feet, but she did not back away, instead stepped into the looters face even more. He found his lips curl as the sides. The man's eyes flickered to him, his bas skin pale, and then back to the elf who undoubtedly had fire in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice lyrical but deadly.

"I - I," the man stuttered. "I was told there was some good things here, is all!"

The warden titled her head. "You should stop," and it was advice in such as way that if he didn't, she would stop him forcefully.

Sten felt himself pull up to his full height behind her. He'd crush the man's head if he so much as made a move towards her. Not that the Bas would, he was already pissing his small clothes.

The warden was far smaller than the Bas male. Didn't even have a weapon to his throat, and if anyone asked, he would say she was being quite reasonable.

"I hate looters," the warden said. "But, seems as though you're here. Have you seen a sword?"

"S-sword?" The man repeated. His panicked gaze kept flashed back to Sten. "N-no. There was a guy here before me. A dwarf. Sold me the spot, actually. Didn't tell me he'd already taken everything of value."

"What's his name?"

"Er, ah, he's a merchant," the man babbled to them. "Should be heading back to Ozahmmar. You could catch him there."

The warden thought of a moment. Then gestured with her chin for the man to move on. "I don't care what you paid for this spot, leave. Now."

The man didn't hesitate. "O-of course," he looked to Sten, to one of the people he had been poking around in. "M-my apologises."

As the man ran off down the hill to the nearest tavern, the warden sighed. Then knelt down beside the remains. She didn't look up at Sten as she spoke, but he found himself wanting to see her expression. "The Dalish plant seeds of trees over the dead. So that they may join the earth and give back to the land."

There was a hitch to her voice which he could not understand.

She looked up at him then, squinting in he moonlight. "What do Qunari do with their dead?"

He studied her face. "There is nothing which can be done for them now," he explained, his voice gravelly. "Their souls have left their bodies and there is no other use for them."

The warden looked back down the bones, quiet for a long moment and then rose. "Let's go," she told him, and brushed her hands down the front of her armour. She did not touch him, had not since their first meeting. It made him frown that he was thinking of such things, but then he also respected that she didn't touch him unnecessarily - like many of her companions attempted to do.

Perhaps it was part of her culture...No, he was positive he'd seen her make contact with the others. Whether it be a pat on the ex-Templars shoulders, a soft punch to the assassins side or a small touch when the Bard wanted help fixing her hair.

He could not identify the emotion which filled him at the thought, and he should have non of those feelings at all.

He watched her for a moment in the moonlight which reflected off of her pale skin, and white hair. She turned to him when he had not moved. He made his face unreadable, then started after her as they walked back to the camp close by.

She had not forced her cultures dead rites on his people, she had respected that their bodies were no more - for that he was glad, and the pain he felt over it lessened some what.

His eyes softened when he looked to her, even as his heart and mind were in turmoil.


End file.
